David Phillips

After a career in sales and a stint as an investigative reporter for CBS News, David J. Phillips decided to go back to school. A spinal cancer survivor who lives with crippling neuropathic pain, he had doubts as to whether he could do it – but he did! A recent graduate of the MFA in Writing (Poetry) Program from Vermont College of Fine Arts, David lives in Maine with his wife and two American Eskimo dogs. His poetry embraces the transient nature of life coupled with an aesthetic preoccupation of the physical world that surrounds us.

“We Are All Jacks, Yucca Flats, 1962,” “Embracing Sisyphus” and “Snapping selfies on Lake Champlain”

The silence of the dry lake bed is broken by the slow
countdown of a megaphone. Flashes of light ignite the
world white to uncomprehending eyes. As the shock
front cools into visibility, an enormous fireball grows
and grows before flaming out like the head of some
leviathan matchstick.
Poetry
Issue 27

David Phillips

After a career in sales and a stint as an investigative reporter for CBS News, David J. Phillips decided to go back to school. A spinal cancer survivor who lives with crippling neuropathic pain, he had doubts as to whether he could do it – but he did! A recent graduate of the MFA in Writing (Poetry) Program from Vermont College of Fine Arts, David lives in Maine with his wife and two American Eskimo dogs. His poetry embraces the transient nature of life coupled with an aesthetic preoccupation of the physical world that surrounds us.

“We Are All Jacks, Yucca Flats, 1962,” “Embracing Sisyphus” and “Snapping selfies on Lake Champlain”

The silence of the dry lake bed is broken by the slow
countdown of a megaphone. Flashes of light ignite the
world white to uncomprehending eyes. As the shock
front cools into visibility, an enormous fireball grows
and grows before flaming out like the head of some
leviathan matchstick.
Poetry
Issue 27
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